


Of Silk and Flame

by wordslinger



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: oh the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Grant was a nice man. He just wasn't Roy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Silk and Flame

**Author's Note:**

> My morose mood has made this possible. I'm not even a little bit sorry.

            Silk was her favorite. She adored the way it whispered against her skin in a distinctly feminine way. Something the stiffness of her wool uniform did not allow for. As deep as Riza’s distaste for military balls went, the silk gown almost made up for it. _Almost._

The evening might have been tolerable if she could have spent it on the arm of the Colonel, but that just wasn’t possible. Riza chastised herself for even fantasizing about it. The lines between the two of them were firm, and impregnable. He’d have his own date, and she, hers.

            Captain Grant wasn’t a bad looking man, even if he _wasn’t_ Roy, and she could admit to herself that she enjoyed listening to him go on about his studies in ancient Xingese culture. He didn’t just prattle either, he knew how to engage others in conversation, and she found herself participating not just for polite company’s sake. He was _interesting_ , and despite herself, he made her laugh.

            The stab in her gut, that felt a lot like betrayal, when he invited her to the annual ball was difficult to suppress. She accepted his offer in spite of the nausea that accompanied it.

            Who was she betraying, really? The Colonel? Hardly. An extra-professional relationship with him couldn’t even be attempted. The rules of fraternization between a superior officer and direct subordinate were very clear on that. She knew he saw other women. Everyone knew. Accepting advances from another man was perfectly fine. It was allowed!

            So why did she feel like vomiting? Why did the evening ahead feel like a brick sinking in her stomach with all the weight of a funeral?

            Riza wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue, careful not to smudge her mascara. She’d blame the redness on an early evening drink to calm her nerves. Even though the Captain knew she wasn’t that type of drinker. He would be polite enough not to counter her.

            Her palm felt clammy as she clung to his arm. Probably too tightly. With perfect aplomb he handed their name cards to the herald. _Such a ridiculous tradition._ Why did their names have to be called out so conspicuously?

            Grant’s lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Care to dance?”

            “I-“ Riza’s finger’s flexed against the fabric of his tuxedo jacket as she paled.

            “A drink then.” He effortlessly led her to a small table near the bar. “Champagne?”

            _“Colonel Roy Mustang; Vanessa Rhast.”_ The clear voice of the heard sliced through every part of her.

            “Whiskey,” Riza bit out. “Please.”

            Captain Grant didn’t even blink, as he extracted her fingers from his arm with a small smile. He was far too good for her.

            The whiskey burned like hell as it slid down her throat. Riza’s hand shook as she set the glass down carefully on the table. Gold and green swaths of fabric were draped across it’s circular top artfully. The colors burred. She hated them. She hated _herself._

The Captain was speaking to her, and she tried her best to reciprocate. Riza knew she was failing horribly. As much as she tried to avoid it, her eyes followed the Colonel. His date was wrapped in a stunning red affair, and the way he spun her around the dance floor was ruining _everything_. Once, his gaze met hers and the longing in his dark eyes broke her heart.

            Riza flinched when she felt the Captain’s hand on her elbow. “You look pale, Riza. Let’s get you some air, it’s rather hot in here.”

            She let him lead her outside to a garden dripping with late summer blooms. The sweet scent of them only added to her nausea, and guilt.

            “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m afraid I don’t feel very well this evening. Perhaps I should have stayed home instead of ruining your time.”

            “Please don’t apologize. I’m the one at fault.” His bright green eyes were all wrong. Captain Grant gently tucked a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. “Love is a tricky thing when everything conspires against it.”

            His sad smile released the tears she’d been holding back for hours. Riza sank down onto a bench. “Am I really so obvious?” Technically she’d admitted nothing.

            “It couldn’t be more clear to me, if the both of you were wearing signs around your necks.”

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m a lousy date, and an even lousier person for letting things get this far. It was unfair to you.”

            “In truth, I already knew.” Riza started, eyes wide. Captain Grant held his open hands up. “It’s not common knowledge, I promise, and your secret is safe with me. I only noticed because…” He sighed and attempted to loosen his collar with one finger. “…Because I liked you so much. I couldn’t help but catch the way your eyes follow him around a room.”

            Riza fell forward, burying her face in her hands. “I’ve known him a long time. Too long, maybe. I never meant for this to happen.”

            “No one ever does, Lieutenant.”

            The use of her title instead of her name was him distancing himself. Riza could feel it.

            “Do you want me to take you home?” Ah, ever perfectly polite.

            Riza straightened her back, and wiped the tears from her eyes, not for the first time that night. “Don’t let me ruin the rest of your evening. I’ll call for a cab.”

            “At least let me call. I’m the reason you’re here at all.”

            She let him make the call, and didn’t protest when he insisted on paying the driver, as well. The warm press of his lips on her forehead only made her feel even more wretched.

            Silk was her favorite. She burned the dress anyway.


End file.
